


Same Old Person, New Mistakes

by jehovahswitness



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, saloonatics, saloonatics au, sfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehovahswitness/pseuds/jehovahswitness
Summary: Thompson becomes bored enough to chat with the local barkeep.





	1. Chapter 1

To put it simply, Detective Edward had left as fast as he came.

 

To Thompson, it seemed like only yesterday that the duo was zipping through town, rounding up all the bad guys and locking them away. In their miraculous fit of luck, almost rendering the town near spotless. Then going on to rescue Prince Matthew. 

 

Only yesterday that he was mentoring the bright-eyed Detective with his many years of experience, as the town’s sheriff. 

 

Nothing negative that Sheriff Thompson had to say deterred the man, but only encouraged him to prove Thompson wrong. The man had to say, it was one of his redeeming qualities. Trials and tribulations meant learning opportunities to Edward, Thompson would come to observe, and admire. 

 

It probably the most exciting week of his life, in a very, very long time.

 

The sheriff is not it’s all cracked up to be, Thompson doesn’t like “playing hero”. It’s a hard job, it weighs on him, and Edward’s short visit rejuvenated him. Nonetheless, it's his personal obligation. 

 

For a fleeting second-even though he knows it’s completely silly- Thompson imagined Edward staying in America, in the small town. He could see them sitting at ‘A Good Place To Start’, after a long day of cases together, liquor and a cola side by side. 

 

Just talking, about Sheriff and Detective duties. Imagining witnessing the young Detective blossom into experience, made Thompson feel something. 

 

Yes, Edward would blossom, not compress into the duty of a Detective. 

 

To know that there were still people like Detective Edward, with hearts like his, made him feel less hopeless. Despite his numerous eye rolls over that week at Edward’s positive, hopeful responses to his pessimistic remarks- it was a fondly met fresh perspective. Though he’d never admit it. 

 

But now the jump start in Thompson’s veins had left with Edward back to England, with his hopes and wildest dreams he’d never share. 

 

Now all that left was a hollow shell, ready to revert back to the way life has always been, and always will be.

 

Waking up, drinking, eating, drinking, sleeping, and repeat.

 

At least Edward kept his promise to write. 

 

Edward’s letters were like a light at the end of a tunnel for Thompson. 

 

The young detective would ask him how things were, for advice, or just talk about meaningless things.

 

Besides living in his liquor, the letters were something he had to look forward to.

 

Honestly, he would argue things got even worse when Edward left. Before him, he was at least busy with the town. Unfortunately, since the town was cleaned up, there wasn’t jack shit to do. 

 

Well, there was one thing to do...

 

—————

 

The door to Sheriff Thompson’s mess of an office swung open with a thud, promptly swirling dust into the air with it.

 

The man coughed, and swat it away as he approached his work desk. He let out a heavy sigh, idly tracing his fingers along the raggedy wooden surface. The padded swivel chair creaked as Thompson put his weight onto it, then slid forward with his knees under the desk. 

 

Sheriff had to forcefully open the desk drawer containing a record of cases, some he put together himself, others reports from detectives that worked in the building.

 

He huffed, annoyed at the disarray of papers he had to sort through. 

 

Finally, the sheriff came across the top-secret file he sought:

 

“TOP SECRET RED BANDIT CASE FILE” is what the file read, in bright red letters. Thompson traced them, then opened the file. 

 

——

 

“What? One does not re-open the Red Bandit case out of sheer boredom.” 

 

Sheriff Thompson was now walking alongside his coworker, Laura. He had told her about his plan to put the years-old case to rest. 

 

“It’s nothin’ but the truth, I ain’t got anything else to do.” Thompson shrugged simply. 

 

“Huh,” the woman muttered, “Well, good luck. You’re gonna need it.” Thompson smiled as they stopped at ‘A Good Place To Start.’

 

Thompson took a beat, then kicked the dirt. “You comin’?” Curt, per usual, no need to make things awkward.

 

“Aw shucks, I would, but I’ve got some errands to run.”

 

Oh.

 

“Alright.” Thompson adjusted his tall hat, and just like that, he was alone. Also per usual. 

 

Sheriff Thompson entered the saloon for probably the thousandth time, eyes adjusting to the considerably less bright building. 

 

He took off his hat, boots thumping along the wood as he found his favorite seat at the bar.

It was quiet, noticeably spare of customers, and warm. 

 

Just how he liked it. Thompson was always a day drinker, he’d never come to ole Good Place at night. Mostly cause he’d be tied up with paperwork, and no one to go with. So what’s the point? 

 

“The usual?” The barkeep muttered behind his mustache, grabbing a glass mug. Sheriff gave him a curt nod in response.

 

The man watched as the beer splashed into the glass, the sunlight flittering in from behind the doors illuminated the glass in a dazzling shine. 

 

The Barkeep traded the glass with Thompson’s money, pocketing it. “Thanks.” Thompson grunted, bringing the glass to his mouth. The barkeep continued cleaning glasses. 

 

He thought back to Edward as the familiar burn settled in his stomach, suddenly drinking alone wasn’t so comforting. Thompson found his eyes wandering to the barkeep, and his name tag.

 

‘Todd’

 

“Todd.” Thompson tried it on his tongue, it was fitting. The barkeep stopped, looking at Thompson quizzically. “...yes?” 

 

Sheriff Thompson stilled, burying his face in his cup. “Nothing, just didn’ know your name was Todd.”

 

“We’ve had this same routine for months, and you never bothered to look at my name tag?” Tord’s tone wasn’t flat, no...Thompson couldn’t put his finger on it. 

 

The sheriff scoffed a laugh, shrugging. The barkeep- Todd- had a point. “I guess I was too distracted?” 

 

“Ha. Well, I know your name.”

 

“Why wouldn’ you? I’m the Sheriff.” Thompson straightened.

 

Todd rolled his eyes in good nature. “Obviously, your majesty, I meant it as a matter-of-fact thing.” Teasingly, that was the word. 

 

Thompson laughed.

 

Todd continued cleaning his glasses. Thompson looked at Todd when his laughter dispersed, then to the stage in the far left of the building.

 

“What’s the stage for?” Thompson asked, resting his cheek on his palm. That wasn’t a stupid question, right? To be fair, Thompson has never seen it be used. 

 

Todd’s grey eyes had a glint in them, and he smiled. “Come tonight and find out.”

 

Thompson was tingling with curiosity, and sat up. “...Okay.” He replied, awe-like.

 

And that was that. 

 

——-

 

Thompson hadn’t scrubbed so hard in his life.

 

Not to mention the man didn’t bathe as often as the average person, but would never let himself go out in public with a noticeable smell.

 

No, he’s too self-conscious about that. A little cologne was an easy fix.

 

But tonight was a special occasion, (in which Tom is known to bathe rigorously) he was going to ‘A Good Place To Start’ for the first time at night. His motive was to find out what the stage was for.

 

Plus, Todd invited him, so why not? 

 

After nearly scrapping off his skin with soap and water, along with putting an actual effort into what he wore, he stood in front of his dresser mirror.

 

Yet, he still looked like shit.

 

His eye bags weigh heavy under his dark eyes, his hair a mess bare without his hat, and his damn eyepatch was ruining the whole look.

 

Thompson didn’t even feel like he was looking at himself, it never felt real.

 

The man glanced at his comb, and the birthday gift hair gel he never used from Laura. “I’m trying new things tonight, why not?” He muttered as he examined the gift in his hands.

 

At first, he tried a middle part, then quickly decided that was not a good idea. Then came a side part, a lot of slicking, and voilà! 

 

He finally looked less of a hot mess, he was ready. Thompson took the pocket watch out of his breast pocket, right on time. 

 

It was a cool night, Thompson adjusted his vest that was snug against his chest. Possibly a size too small, considering it was the only nice thing he owned, which he’s had as long as he could remember. 

 

His footsteps were brisk, ignoring the couples he passed. Who knew the town would get so lively at night? Certainly not Thompson. 

 

By the time the man got to the entrance of the bar, he wanted scamper home with his tail between his legs.

 

Why did he agree to this? Was he thinking he could actually enjoy this? Why in the world is he wearing hair gel? 

 

He felt like a fool, yes, a damn desperate fool who was sure to embarrass himself tonight.

 

Thompson stood there, eyes wide and breath a puff of cloud. Yet, he couldn’t will himself to turn back. After all, he already dressed up all nice. 

 

The man pushed past the swinging doors and was sent  _reeling_. 

 

The bar was teaming with life and energy, clumps of people scattered along the building busy with talking. Their conversations were loud and coming into his ears all at once. Drinks were passed around, music soft in the background.

 

The new sights and smells were overwhelming Thompson, he could hardly focus. Before he knew it he was turning around, around smack into Todd’s chest.

 

Todd instinctively grabbed Thompson’s arms to steady himself. 

 

“Sheriff?”

 

“Todd.” It came out pitched.

 

The image of Thompson finally was settling into Todd’s eyes with a long look, and he smiled. 

 

Thompson took note of the gap, now that they were so close.

 

“Wow, look at ya,” Todd said, hands falling from Thompson’s arms. 

 

Thompson averted his eyes, anywhere he could, and cleared his throat. There was no way Todd wasn’t mocking him, and why wouldn’t he? Thompson had never felt so stupid in his life. 

 

“They say gals like a man in uniform, but gee whiz! I wasn’t expecting you to come with such razzle-dazzle.” Todd commented, guiding Thompson through the crowd with a hand on the man’s back.

 

Thompson’s nerves were soothed, and his face upturned. “Oh.” Was all he managed to say. 

 

They go to the bar, which other people were attending. It clicked in Thompson’s brain why the barkeep was freely roaming, which was unusual. 

 

Todd caught his expression, “We get real busy at night, busy booms.” He explained smoothly, making the two a drink of beer. 

 

“Thanks.” Thompson reached for his pocket, but Todd stopped him with his hand. “On me, cheers.” Todd raised his glass with a warm smile.

 

“..Cheers.” Thompson found himself relaxing.

 

Clank

 

He should talk, say something. Show that he can hold an interesting conversation. 

 

Before he could even breathe, the lights when dead, and he could barely see.

 

Todd’s laugh rang out through the dark at Thompson’s startle, and the man was glaring in embarrassment.

 

“What gives?” He huffed, suddenly aware of how scrunched the space was now.

 

“You asked about the stage, didn’t ya?” Todd retorted, Thompson smelled the beer on his breath.

 

As if on cue, the lights lining the stage lit up and music increased tempo. The building was now dim, except for the bright bulbs illuminating the slim figures strutting onto stage. 

 

Cheers roared from the crowd at the saloon girls coming to the edge to greet that ‘enthusiastic’ patrons. 

 

Their corsets clung to their waist, a single leg peeking out from under the ruffles of their dress and their faces painted with makeup. 

 

The whistles started flying as the girls danced to the music proactively.

 

Thompson’s cheeks started getting warm, and he glanced at the illuminated face of Todd smiling. 

 

When the man realized the Sheriff wasn’t smiling, he looked perplexed. “What man wouldn’t grin at the sight of that?” It was light-hearted, but Thompson didn’t respond. 

 

He tried awkwardly to start a conversation, “Saloon girls, I would’ve never guessed.” He commented. 

 

“I’m full of surprises.”

 

“So, these are your girls?” That didn’t exactly come out the way Thompson intended, and made him more embarrassed. 

 

“They work for me, yes.” Todd said with a soft chuckle. “We’re like a family, we have fond memories backstage. They trust me.”

 

Well, it was soothing to know Todd wasn’t a pervert. 

 

“Let’s find somewhere a little quieter to talk,” Todd stated more than asking, grabbing Thompson’s arm to lead him to an entrance that he didn’t know where to. 

 

They stood together in it, looking at each other. 

 

“Fond memories?” Thompson repeated, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Like,” Todd started, “Jokes and drinks together, dinners, celebrations, you know. A lot of these girls are from the streets and have nowhere to turn. I take them under my wing if they want.”

 

Thompson had to admit, he was growing to admire Todd. “I do that with my colleagues. Especially the new ones.” The Sheriff tacked on, hand gliding over his shiny hair.

 

“To being charitable!” Todd remarked cheerily, clinking their glasses together. Thompson let out a small laugh.

 

They drank, and the beer was cool against Thompson’s warm lips. 

 

The performance far off from them was closing, but the music was fading. It was still lively, now causing people to cluster to the dance floor.

 

Todd’s eyes suddenly shined, and he smirked, gap and gums. 

 

Thompson understood right away, “Oh no, no, I-“ yet he was being dragged to the dance floor anyway, the Sheriff felt his stomach twisting.

 

What was he supposed to do, say no? Thompson focused on Todd’s encouraging smile, and let the man take the lead. 

 

“Don’t give me that bullshit, ‘I don’ dance.’ Everyone dances.” After a saliva filled raspberry, Thompson realized Todd was probably on his way to being toasted.

 

Oh, how he envied the man. 

 

“I suppose you’re right,” Thompson said, voice tight as bodies were moving around him. “Just follow the music,” Todd said simply, already swaying with energy. 

 

Instead, Thompson followed Todd, grateful for the alcohol settling in and allowing him to relax. Maybe it wasn’t so hard after all.

 

Everything was slowing down, people were twirling around him, with Todd’s bright smile at the center. Thompson had a jump in his veins, now his feet were alive and moving, and his own face was twisting up with glee.

 

A night to remember, Thompson decided. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They hang out and shit

 

Thompson’s eyes were trained on the hands of his pocket watch, traveling with the second hand as it ticked consistently. 

 

It had been, what, five, ten minutes past the time they had planned to meet up? 

 

Well, it was really Todd who was eager with the planning.

 

 

The two had stumbled toward Thompson’s two-story wooden house, completely shit-faced after a night of at dancing at ‘A Good Place’. 

 

Thompson thought it was awfully kind that Todd offered to walk him home since he had nothing better to do. 

 

When the Sheriff was firmly pressed against his door, in an attempt to open it, he spoke, “Thanks, buddy, Todd. Thanks.” 

 

“We should hang again sometime this week, say....you gotta horse?” Todd had asked. 

 

“Yup I sure do, also I know this nice pasture I like to ride her-“

 

“Boom! That! Okay, bye, Sheriff.” Then he stumbled away. 

 

It was a blur of slurs and hiccups, but that’s how Thompson remembers it. 

 

 

His grey companion’s hooves kneaded the ground, her body language mirroring Thompson’s inner restlessness.

 

“I know, girl,”He sighed, patting the neck of his mare. 

 

It was beginning to feel like an eternity before the sound of thumping hooves was behind him.

 

Thompson tugged at the reins of his horse, turning completely to greet whoever was advancing on him. He squinted through the haze of the heat from under his hat, making out a white horse coming across the pasture. 

 

Thompson came to realize it was Todd riding on it, and felt relief. He put his pocket-watch in the breast pocket of his high collar vest, smoothing it down before perching his hands on his mare’s reins.

 

“Woah,” Todd muttered to his stallion, pulling on the reins to make them both come to a halting stop. The man was smiling wide and was winded as if he was the one running.

 

With a gloved hand, Todd lifted his hat in a greeting. Thompson mirrored the action stiffly.

 

“‘Bout time.”

 

“Ah, well don’t you look chipper than a jaybird?” 

 

Thompson rolled his eyes, shoulders slumping. His annoyance was clear to Todd’s squinting eyes under the sun, causing the man to walk his stallion closer to Thompson’s mare.

 

“Aight, I apologize. I just couldn’t find my gloves for nothing, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting on purpose.” Todd’s tone was gentle with authenticity. 

 

Thompson gave a curt nod, satisfied with the apology, then begin walking through the sunbathed pasture.

 

Todd smiles after a soft “whew”, kicking his stallion gently to ride alongside the other. 

 

It was a mighty fine pasture, dappled with colors of flowers and kissed with an apricot hue. The flowers stood out against the saturated green of dry grass. 

 

As the two peacefully walked together, Thompson found his eyes traveling down to the leather gloves on Todd’s hands. 

 

It clicked in his mind that the other man had been wearing them the night they danced at ‘A Good Place to Start’, and pretty much always before that. 

 

“Why do you always wear those gloves?” 

 

Todd glanced over at the Sheriff beside him. “I’m just not comfortable without them.” He replied simply. Thompson huffed a laugh, “So you shower in ‘em?” 

 

Todd smirked, rolling his eyes playfully. “Yes, and I sleep in them, too.” 

 

Their laughs rang in their horse’s ears. 

 

“Seriously,” Thompson interjected through his ceasing laugh, “Why are you uncomfortable without them?” 

 

Thompson realized it might’ve been personal after he said it, his nerves already coming back. However, Todd didn’t look offended, just in thought.

 

“They’re my good luck charms.” He replied, with a small smile. It wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

 

Thompson seemed satisfied and nodded. “How do you know they are lucky?” The man glanced at the latter. 

 

Todd smirked. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked,” He purred in reply, pulling his stallion in front of Thompson’s mare.

 

Thompson pulled on the reins to his horse, coming to a stop. He looked puzzled.

 

“It was the summer of 88’,” The man started with a mischievous tone, “I was just mindin’ my business at an ol’ bank,”

 

Thompson scoffed a laugh but didn’t interrupt.

 

“Then wham!” Thompson visibly flinched- “Incomes 10 crooks up to no good, I knew a stick up when I smelled one.” Todd did a funny little squint that made Thompson laugh.

 

“So what did you do?” Thompson asked quietly, watching the latter pull his horse around in a slow creep. 

 

“What did I do?” Todd echoed, with a tip of his hat down dramatically. “Well, I had to fight them off! There wasn’ enough coppers to even full two of them.”

 

Thompson had enough sense to roll his eyes, well, the one good one, “Uh-huh. And how do the gloves tie into this?” 

 

They were parallel now, looking in each other’s direction.

 

“Nice siege way,” Todd commented offhandedly, “I had just bought these dandy leather gloves, and I was wearin’ them when I helped the coppers fight the criminals.” 

 

Todd said that as if it was a normal day for him.

 

The barkeep interrupted before Thompson could get to his neigh-saying, “After I was bruised considerably less than my opponents, I looked down at the blood splattered all over my brand-new gloves,” 

 

Thompson interjected blandly, “That must’ve been an ass to get out.”

 

“It was. Anywho, I was lookin’ at them and I realized, they were lucky. There was no way I shoulda pulled that off.” 

 

Thompson watched as the satisfied barkeep circled behind him and back beside him. 

 

Thompson scoffed but noticed the other looking him right in the eyes. 

 

Oh no, was he actually believing that bullshit? 

 

“Now you know the story.” It wasn’t telling the truth, but it wasn’t a whole lie. 

 

Todd was never late again. 

\------

 

Knock knock knock

 

Todd stepped back from the door, waiting patiently on Thompson’s porch. His gloved hands were behind his back, silver eyes taking in the only slightly familiar surroundings.

 

It was a nice wooden house, two stories, a sturdy and clean looking porch, with ‘SHERIFF’ in bold letters on the top floor. 

 

Todd had planned to ask the Sheriff when they could hang out at the saloon, but he never showed up.

 

The man checked his pocket-watch, it was still fairly early, with the afternoon creeping in. 

 

Yup, Thompson should definitely be at the saloon right now.

 

The door opened slowly with a creak, a sleepy Thompson in a robe peeked out. When he realized it was Todd, the door opened fully.

 

Okay, now Todd was beginning to feel a bit stupid. 

 

Why didn’t he think Thompson was simply sleeping in? It made perfect sense. 

 

“Oh, Todd,” Thompson seemed surprised, “how can I help you?” 

 

No point in running now, “Well, I was gonna plan another hang out at the saloon but you never came. I see you’re busy, pardon me.” 

The man lifted his hat in greeting. 

 

Thompson attempted to fix up his bed head with a shrug, “I’m actually not, I mean, I’m free right now. Want to come in?” 

 

Todd was pleasantly surprised, he was about to see Thompson’s house for the first time. 

 

“Sure,” it came out apprehensively, and Todd could kick himself. 

 

Nevertheless, the latter was opening the door wider so Todd could step in. 

 

Thompson closed it behind Todd, adjusted his robe so it was snug. 

 

There was a pregnant pause between the two as they looked at each other.

 

They both let out a laugh, clearing the tension in the air and relaxing both parties.

 

“You look like shit,” Todd commented, warmly of course, as he removed his hat to let it hang against his back. 

 

“You try staying up all night collecting taxes, and dodging bullets while doing so,” Thompson replied with a tired sigh. 

 

Oh, the irony. 

 

“I can’t even imagine,” Todd said with a smirk, in spite of himself. 

 

“Yeah, can I get you something? Water, perhaps?” 

 

“I’m okay, I’m still trying to take in the fact that I’m in the Sheriff’s house. Honestly, how many people have dared step in here?”

 

“Haha. I have guests sometimes.” Thompson argues flatly.

 

“Sometimes,” Todd echoed teasingly, watching the other go into his kitchen. 

 

Thompson made himself a glass of water and took a sip to hide his smiling.

 

Todd stepped into the kitchen, taking in the simple interior. 

 

Thompson set his glass down, turning to face his companion. “I guess I owe you a tour,” he said with a faux sigh.

 

“Yup!” Todd chirped, waiting eagerly. 

 

“Okay, to my room,” Thompson replied, walking over to said door.

 

Todd followed behind him, preparing to go into the other’s room when the door creaked open.

 

The barkeep was not prepared for it to slam shut, and have Thompson whip around and knock right into the other’s chest. 

 

They separated Thompson, looking embarrassed and Todd tense against the wall behind him. 

 

“Forgive me,” he started sheepishly, “I just need to tidy up a bit.”

 

Before Todd could even reply the Sheriff disappeared into his room. 

 

Todd let out a breath, relaxing. “Alright.” He was at a loss for words. 

 

After some shuffling the door re-opened, the barkeep stepped off the wall and cautiously entered. 

 

The room was small but nice, the bed was standard size and the nightstand was neatly beside it. There was a large window, with curtains framing it.

 

“Nice,” Todd said, finally recovering from whatever just happened outside the room.

 

“Thanks,” Thompson said awkwardly.

 

He noticed something sticking out from under Thompson’s bed. 

 

“What’s this?” He asked while tugging the object out into the open.

 

“Don’t-“ 

 

“A guitar?” Todd voiced his thoughts, examining it.

 

‘Suzy’ was carved in sharp, messy strokes. 

 

“You named your guitar?” Todd chuckled, looking up.

 

Thompson’s cheeks were flushed considerably, and his mouth hung open in panic. 

 

Todd couldn’t stop smiling, he seriously couldn’t help himself. “Well?”

 

Thompson snatched Suzy back with a glare, the tint of his cheeks disappearing. “What about it?”

 

“It’s...interesting.” The barkeep shrugged. “You play?”

 

“Yes.” It was curt and guarded. Not all. 

 

“...you sing?” Todd’s eyes grew with realization, and the blush was back. 

 

“Sing something.” He demanded, before the other to respond to his previous statement. The latter was blinking rapidly, while his counter sat comfy on his sturdy bed.

 

Todd was serious, he waited nonchalantly.

 

A lengthy pause, then Thompson began strumming the guitar carefully.

 

Todd recognized the tune. 

 

“O say can you see,” Although he was hesitant, and his voice was soft.

 

Once Todd established that Thompson could sing damn good, he let himself become wistful as the latter continued singing. 

 

It just occurred to him how it was odd that he was singing the National Anthem, perhaps he panicked? 

 

It didn’t matter much to Todd. 

 

Thompson’s voice was like...well, the chill of a starry night. Each note was crisp like the air and perfectly cut like the illuminated stars. 

 

When you breathe in you can feel the cold take over your lungs, and when you look up you can see the blinking stars. 

 

If you concentrate, you can float among them. It was...comforting, surreal. 

 

Todd blinked, he definitely sounded silly. “If you tell anyone about this I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” The other slid Suzy under the bed.

 

“Charming,” Todd stated, smiling. 

 

Thompson laughed. 

 

”Wow,” Todd started after a beat, trying to find the right words, “You’re good.” He wanted to say more but didn’t know how. 

 

Thompson smiled for a moment, “Thanks.” 

 

Another pause.

 

“Is that the end of the tour?” Todd inquired, hopping up.

 

“Oh, Nah,” Thompson continued, “I have one more thing to show you.” 

 

“Lead the way, Sheriff.” 

 

“Don’t call me that, it’s too formal,” the other commented as he exited his room. 

 

“Really?” Todd trailed behind him.

 

“Yup, I keep it for strangers.” 

 

“Aw, Thompson,” Said man turned around with a raised eyebrow, “Are you officially sayin we’re friends?” 

 

Thompson scowled and walked faster, “Nope.” 

 

That didn’t stop Todd from grinning to ear to ear.

 

The two exited through a door that leads to another porch, in Thompson’s backyard. 

 

There was what looked to be a stable, but way smaller than usual. Perhaps a single horse stable. 

 

“This is my single horse stable.”

 

“It’s nice,” Todd replied, stepping down the stairs onto the patchy, yellow grass. 

 

Todd was led to the stable with a smiling Thompson, it was a mixture of brick and wood. 

 

“I guess this concludes our tour,” Thompson commented with a hand protecting his eyes from the glaring sun, with Todd by his side. 

 

Todd removed his hat from his head, placing it on his companion’s, before stepping into the shade of the single-horse stable. 

 

He watched Thompson adjust the hat mutely, letting Todd break the silence, “What’s her name?” 

 

“Horse.” 

 

“Let’s you see, you named your gun, Gun, your horse, Horse, and your guitar, Suzy.” Todd was completely amused.

 

Thompson furrowed his eyebrows, “How did you know about Gun?” 

 

“You and that detective sat two feet across from me for a week, I had no choice but to listen.” 

 

Thompson rubbed his face from under Todd’s hat, with a shameless shrug. 

 

Todd approached the horse as she scuffed her hoof against the wooden floor, an approving smile sliding across his face. “Nice to meet you, Horse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes  
> Let me know if there's any spelling errors, constructive criticism is welcomed!


	3. Chapter 3

 

Todd straightened out the week-old letter in his hands, his laughter dying out as he said, “How do you understand this? Is this really how they talk in England? What is “bow wow mutton”?” 

 

Thompson leaned closer to him on the bed to see exactly where it was written, looking over Todd’s shoulder. 

 

He forced himself to roll his good eye, even though he wanted to laugh too. Todd probably pinched his face slightly from the alcohol on Thompson’s clothes, nevertheless smiled. 

 

“You’re smiling because you know I have a point-“

 

“It means bad meat, so bad, it might as well be dog flesh.” He interjected, looking from the letter to Todd. 

 

“How do you know that?” Todd asked, looking back with a tilt of his head. 

 

“Edward told me, he has to explain a lot of...oh shut up.” Thompson backed away from his companion in annoyance. 

 

“I didn’t say anything.” There was that stupid gap-toothed smirk.

 

“Your face says it all, give me my letter back and stop making fun of my friend!” Thompson protested playfully, snatching the letter back and moving to his side of the bed, around the checker's board between them. 

 

Honestly, he wasn’t expecting Todd to show interest in the letters, well, to tell the truth, he was hoping he wouldn’t be interested. The letters might as well be a hobby for Thompson, something personal and his little secret. One less thing to be judged for. 

 

Yet, Todd’s engaging in enthusiastic commentary on the complexity of Victorian slang. 

 

“Besides that,” Todd stroked his mustache, “they’re nice letters. I would have never pegged you for such a vulnerable man.”

 

_ Me either.  _

 

“Can you please take your turn? I’m itching to kick your ass.” 

 

“Pretty sure that’s just body lice,” Todd quipped under his breath, eyes on the board to find his next move.

 

Thompson pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows...aggressively at his checker's mate. 

 

Whatever, fuck Todd, he probably bathes enough to maybe definitely not have lice. 

 

Thompson heard the clicks of the pieces against the board, pulling him out of his thoughts 

 

Todd had that stupid smirk from the start to the end of bouncing his piece against the board, completely ending the game. 

 

“...Honestly, I’m pretty buzzed right now.“

 

That earned him a checkers piece to his forehead, he tried to pout.

 

“I doubt you would’ve won sober. And, I seriously need a photo of the face you’re making right now.” 

 

Thompson’s eyebrows raised, “I’m bored of chess anyway, want to take some pictures?” 

 

“Sure, actually.” Todd began putting the checker's pieces away.

 

Okay, not really the reaction he was expecting.Perhaps Todd has a camera of his own?

 

“Do you have a camera?”

 

“Oh..no, I mean you’re the sheriff, you have plenty of money to spare. It’s to be expected.” The checker's box was closed, Todd rose from the bed and walked toward the closet. 

 

Interesting. Thompson examined Todd more closely, realizing he couldn’t make out his class. Sure, he owned a bar, but how much money do those Saloon girls really pull in? 

 

He realized the other was about to open the closet, his heart skipping a beat as he stood up. “I’ve got it,” he said, taking the box before Todd could reply. 

 

Todd grabbed his hat off Thompson’s coat hanger, setting it neatly on his head. “Alright.” 

 

“Meet me at the stables.”

 

Todd nodded curtly, brushing past Thompson to leave the room with a glance back. 

 

Thompson turned to his closet, taking a breath and opening the shiny wooden doors.

 

He kicked the pile of dirty clothes and trash back into the closet when it fell out, pinching his face in annoyance.

 

He looked past the rubbish at his feet and past the few expensive clothes hanging up, to the top.

 

The Sheriff placed the box at the top of the closet, right next to his camera. “Ah,” Thompson said under his breath, taking the wooden box from the top of the closet and dusting it off. 

 

He opened it, the creaking of metal breaking in the silence. There was one photo in there, and he really didn’t want to look at it. 

 

It was of his parents. 

 

He tried not to envision it as he placed the picture carefully on top of the checkers game. He was taking pictures, with Todd, no need to think about the past. 

 

He felt relieved as he stepped out of his house, the warm sun on his skin relaxed him, and Todd’s brightening facial expression got him focused.

 

“Very nice, shall we?” Todd’s relaxing voice inquired. 

 

“We shall.” 

 

The camera was set up on the porch of the stable, a few feet off the ground.

 

The two stepped a few feet away to ensure their entire bodies would be shot and got into position after the camera was ready. 

 

They stood a few inches apart, Thompson dropped his arm around Todd, leaning in with a relaxed expression. Todd stands straight, looking to the camera with an equally flat expression. 

 

Thompson smiles after the picture was taken, lacing his fingers together around Tord’s neck. 

 

“Want to switch hats?” 

 

“Grand idea Sheriff!” 

 

Thompson traded hats with his friend, watching the other’s amusement of how ridiculous tall his own hat was.

 

Thompson briefly left Todd’s side to adjust the camera for another picture, before hurrying back into the shot.

 

Todd accidentally leaned so close their hats knocked together, Thompson could’ve sworn he caught the scent of sage while laughing with Todd.

 

“I think we fucked up the picture, sorry,” Todd tried to say while dipping his head into his hand.

 

“I guess so, what the hell,” Thompson shrugged, touching the buttons of his own vest that were constraining his stomach. 

 

“Sheriff!” 

 

The two separated with a jump, turning to see who was approaching.

 

“Laura? Well, I’ll be a-“

 

“Pardon, but,” she was noticeably out of breath, “we’ve got a lead.”

 

“On what?” 

 

“R-E-D-B-A-N-D-I-T,” Laura replied, glancing at Todd. Was now the time to explain that Todd could in fact read? Probably not. 

 

“Alright-“ Thompson was turning to Todd, before he could continue, his hat was being put against his chest. 

 

The Sheriff blinked, handing Todd’s hat back. 

His expression was flat, per usual, except not until recently.

 

“Let’s go.” Thompson’s heart was pounding in his chest, power walking to pick up his camera and enter the back way through his house.

Laura followed. 

 

————————

 

Thompson checked his pocket watch, it was approaching night. 

 

Laura explained after Thompson reopened the case, she had been interviewing local residents and got a lead from a peasant farmer that lived seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

 

A man that matched the description of one of many of Red Bandit’s companions had been spotted going to and from an abandoned house. 

 

She hosted nightly steak outs until finally the suspect was arrested outside the not-so-abandoned house full of stolen cash and riches. 

 

They were interrogating him now. 

 

The wooden floor creaked under Thompsons’s boots as he stepped closer to the brightly lit table. 

 

A man sat it rigidly, handcuffed to the chair he was sitting on. He wore unusual amounts of leather, and had a mean glare, with some facial scars to match. 

 

Thompson leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. His eye was guarded from the bright low hanging light bulb by his hat. Laura stood behind him in a corner, eyeing the recently arrested criminal.

 

Apparently, he is part of the Red Bandit Gang, and an anonymous tip gave up his temporary location. Laura got him right in time. 

 

“Talk.” Thompson spat, matching the criminal’s glare without hesitation.

 

This man, their entire crew, have taken countless lives. Have ruined countless business and left his town a shell of itself in their wake. Left it crime-infested and hopeless, the mess for Thompson to clean up. This man had pissed him off. 

 

He stayed silent.

 

“Give us everything you know about the Red Bandit and we’ll negotiate your freedom.” 

 

Still, nothing. 

 

Laura stepped forward, the sound of her floor-length skirt brushing against the floorboards, “Listen-“

 

The criminal jerked toward her, glowering at her. “You should know better than to talk to me woman, I oughtta’ make better use of that mouth.” 

 

Thompson glanced at Laura for her reaction. She touched the neckline of her button-up blouse, eyes narrowing. 

 

The criminal’s chair was tipped with her boot, the sound of the chair hitting the floor with the criminal in it rang in both their ears loudly. The crack of his face against the floorboards was satisfying for both of them. 

 

Thompson was shocked at her swiftness, in seconds she was towering above him.

 

“Spit it out or hang.” Laura lifted her skirt to press her heeled boot onto the other’s face, receiving a nasty growl back. 

 

“Kiss my ass.” 

 

“We’ll see how long he lasts without food or water. Throw him in a cell.” Thompson finally spoke with an angry glint in his eye. No point in wasting time with this lowlife, they needed to gun for Red Bandit. 

 

“Sounds perfect, sheriff.” Laura removed her boot, sauntering out of the room.

 

Thompson followed with a hopeful flutter in his chest. They have a lead, after months of dead ends, nearly giving up. They found the light at the end of the tunnel. 

 

He drowned out the sound of Laura telling an intern to take care of their anonymous criminal, only able to hear his own heartbeat in his ears. 

 

He had to tell Todd.

 

“I have to go.” Thompson realized he cut off their conversation rudely and had the sense to flush slightly.

 

“What- where?” Laura furrowed her eyebrows, leaving the intern to her demand. “We have so much to talk about- do, Sheriff.”

 

“I know, we’ll get started right away after I-“

 

“You’ve been so distracted, Sheriff. What is going on? When you reopened the case, I thought this was it. Yet, I’ve been doing all the work, putting in the hours, and I made the arrest. We’re so close, and now you want to run, for what?” 

 

Thompson fell silent, a tickle in his stomach made him uneasy. She was right, and he hated it. 

 

“I’m sorry, Laura. I just needed to get some top-secret files from my house.” 

 

He feels slimy, lying to his coworker like this. Yet, he lies so easily all the time. About how he sleeps, his drinking, his thoughts- but this? This felt dirty. 

 

Laura’s confusion melted into horror, she flattened her skirt with the palm of her hands to avoid eye contact. “My apologies-“

 

“No, you’re right, Laura. But I’m back now.” 

 

Laura visibly relaxed, putting a smile on her face. “I’ll pull the old case files.” 

 

Thompson listened to the click of her shows before relaxing.

 

——-

 

“What do you mean he’s not here?” 

 

“He left, ‘bout an hour ago.” The woman replied after looking to the ceiling through her thick lashes. 

 

“Any idea where? What about his address?” Thompson asked, a little desperate. He was crunched for time. 

 

“Nah, something bout flowers. I’ve got a show to get on with. Sorry honey.” She was walking away before Thompson could even thank her.

 

The space between the lobby and the door of the changing room felt hot, the smell of booze was suffocating Thompson’s senses. He was hoping the alcoholic drink he bought would have set in before he found Todd. 

 

As evident by the loud cheering of the men in response to the women stepping on stage being entirely irritating, it had not. 

 

Thompson needed to leave, now. There was nothing for him here and prolonged presence would completely ruin his mood. 

 

The sheriff exited around the outskirts of the crowd, inhaling deeply once cool air hit his lungs. It was approaching dusk.

 

He remembered what had just happened and started breathing in more, a rush fluttering in his stomach.

 

He’s this close. This close to catching Red Bandit. How could he possibly wait for Todd’s reaction? He had to find him. 

 

Flowers. The word gave Thompson an idea where to start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope these chapters aren’t too short, I’m not good at writing long chapters :(


	4. Chapter 4

 

Regret.

 

Hot, aching regret. 

 

And he had no one to blame but himself.

 

It was all his plan, seemed genius in hindsight. Hide in plain sight, get close with the top of the hierarchy and let all hell loose underneath the nose of said top of the hierarchy. 

 

It was perfect, he could play along easily until he wasn’t. 

 

To tell the truth, Todd wasn’t expecting to enjoy his company so much, to relate with him so much. He too understood that it’s indeed lonely at the top. 

 

You can never get too close, in anticipation that anyone who tries to connect with you is planning on driving a knife in your back.

 

Thompson understood, yet he made the same mistake as Todd. 

 

They played the fool together, and now both of their worlds are about to fall apart. He let his grip loosen just a little, and now the whole sheriff’s department is breathing down his neck.

 

Of course, the simple solution is to flee, cut all ties and never look back, then come back as his infamous persona and take over the quiet little town. 

 

So there he was, in that meadow, with his horse, ready to flee. 

 

What was he waiting for? 

 

The sound of hooves caught his attention, making him turn his head back to see a familiar horse and man coming his direction. 

 

The horse skid to a stop, the handler unhooking his boots from the stirrups of his saddle, his feet hit the ground with off-timed thumps. 

 

Poor thing almost lost his balance, fixing his tilted hat and gaining his breath, as if  he  was the one running. 

 

“Thompson?” 

 

“Todd,” Thompson replies breathily, tipping his hat in an ironically formal greeting. 

 

“What brings you here at the crack of dusk?” 

 

“I should ask you the same, Todd, you’ve got a saloon to run, those pretty ladies need you, I-“ he stopped himself, pursing his lips. 

 

Todd figured the fall was the result of his tassel with balance, but a thought occurred to him when it persisted.

 

He’s drunk. Lovely. 

 

“They’re fine, they can run the thing without me.” He was now facing Thompson, taking in his disheveled state with bitter amusement. 

 

Thompson moved his good eye toward Todd’s horse, taking note of the attachments to the saddle, which could probably hold personal possessions. 

 

It became apparent that Thompson realized what was going on when his eyebrows raised to his hairline and he looked at Tord with this doe-eyed expression. 

 

“You’re leaving?” 

 

Why did he have to say it like that? 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“...why?” 

 

“New opportunities.” He made up quickly. 

 

“Oh,” Thompson replied simply, eyebrows knitting together as he crossed his arms stiffly, rather than how he would usually fiddle with his fingers. 

 

Todd had grown accustomed to his drunk state, as he has been the town barkeep for a few weeks.

 

However, in light of his new understanding, it was his least favorite state of Thompson’s. 

 

He was different. More relaxed, yet more pathetic. He overshares, and he’s snippy.

 

Todd prefers careful, fumbling Thompson. He wasn’t as trusting, and he was more self-aware. Smart. 

 

Downside, he’s curious. Todd notices his lingering on his gloves or eavesdropping when he talks to his showgirls, even when Thompson doesn’t know. 

 

Sure, drunk Thompson is easier to deal with, but Todd’s always like a challenge. 

 

Todd would never get drunk of course, except for that one time with Thompson (which he still scolds himself for), because there was always too much at risk. 

 

“How come I give and you never return?” Thompson quipped, agitated. 

 

Ah, he was catching on. “How do you mean?” 

 

“I don’t know anything about you- except for the fact that you’re  _ really  _ good at checkers ,”  he paused, trying not to slur his words too much, “I don’t know about your family, where you live- why you came here.” 

 

It took him longer than Todd imagined, but all in good time, seeing as Todd and his posse was about to flip his entire town upside down- 

 

Yet, he had to give due credit, Thompson hadn’t almost caught him a hand full of times for no reason, he was smart. That’s why it was fun.

 

Yet, he had given up and fucked around with Edward for a week. 

 

Todd got bored. 

 

“It’s not like I haven’t asked-“ Thompson started, Todd didn’t let him finish. 

 

“I’ll give you something.” 

 

Thompson blinked curiously, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang at his sides. 

 

Todd swung his leg over his horse, making a perfect landing into the soft earth with a click of his boots. 

 

He took long strides over to Thompson, taking each finger of his leather glove between his teeth until it was easy to slip off.

 

Thompson looked down dumbly as the hand was thrust in front of his chest, palm open. 

 

He was slow to catch on, only realizing what was being given when he clasped the others hand. Todd smirked. 

 

He watches Thompson’s face morph into surprise as he wrapped his fingers around Todd’s hand- turning the hand over slowly and letting his eyes travel along with the myriad of scars that was his companion’s hand. 

 

Thompson glanced at Todd, letting his thumb trace each one carefully. 

 

The corner of Todd’s lips quirked as he watched the other’s expressions. 

 

Todd pulled his hand away after a minute, slipping the snug glove back over it. “Well?” 

 

“I guess this is goodbye.” 

 

Todd tipped his hat, turning away and- he tried not to think about how differently Thompson would be if he used his smarts for crime.

 

“I guess so,” Todd replied lately, stepping back into his steed’s saddle and perching comfortably on the animal’s back.

 

“Todd?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You know how I know that story you told me didn’t happen?”

 

Todd smirked, “How?”

 

“June of 88’, Red Bandit cleared out a bank in Texas and killed three people.”

 

-

 

The lead had paid off.

 

Laura led a group of fellow officers in a race against time. They had to cut through the meadow to get to the edge of the town where Red Bandit and his posse would be waiting.

 

She was so close she could taste it. She ignored the loose hairs whipping against her face in the wind, giving her horse another encouraging kick as they sprinted through the meadow.

 

Flowers and grass were trampled under the path of 24 hooves carelessly. The sun was resting just above the trees, leaving the sky a swatch of orange and muddled blue. 

 

By the time the group made it out of the meadow she could see her breath and feel her heart in her ears.

 

This was it. Her chance to prove herself is waiting just on the outskirts of town.

 

“We’re nearly there!” 

 

“How much farther?”

 

“I can see him!” 

 

Laura whipped her head to the left, catching sight of another horse sprinting ahead of them, a silhouette pressed against it. 

 

They had managed to get to him before he could reunite with his fellow criminals. But that didn’t matter. 

 

“Split off!” Laura called back to her group, quickly retrieving her revolver from her holster with a pounding heart. 

 

The group split in half, gaining speed on either side of the assumed Red Bandit. 

 

She was closing in, trying to see his face past the dust their horses were kicking into the chilled wind. 

 

Their eyes met.

 

“Laura?”

 

Her heart skipped a beat as she aimed her gun, squeezing the trigger. 

 

No, she wanted him alive.

 

Bang! 

 

His horse toppled to the ground almost in slow motion, nearly flipping over itself on and tossing the man on top. 

 

The sound of cracking and pained cries began dying on her ears, she quickly yanked on her mare’s lead, barely able to contain herself long enough for her horse to skid to a stop.

 

Laura fumbled off, sprinting back in the direction of Red Bandit with her fellow officers.

 

He was on the ground, trying to recover from his rough landing. 

 

“Put your hands up!” The gun was up before she spoke, voice raw with adrenaline. 

 

Red Bandit staggered to his feet, gloved hands high in the air as six guns pointed at him in all directions. 

 

A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of Laura before she can stop it.

 

She did it. 

 

She did what Sheriff couldn’t. 

 

“Red Bandit, you’re under arrest.” She removed her cuffs from her hip and walked over to Red Bandit. 

 

He didn’t even fight. 

 

His arms folded behind his back, his expression unreadable as Laura secured the cuffs on his wrists tightly. She barely missed the sound of her companions cheering on the first cuff. 

 

“Your rein is up, Red Bandit.” Laura spat as he was lifted with a man on each of his arms. 

 

She remembers when she first joined the office. 

 

She would take out the trash, sweep, and make tea while trying not to get caught eavesdropping.

 

Laura needed to keep her head down and make sure she was never alone in the room with anyone at a given time, not even the Sheriff. 

 

She would ignore the looks and the comments when she jokingly suggested her own theory about cases, and especially, the laughs. 

 

Except when Sheriff didn’t. She was especially surprised when he genuinely asked her about what she thought and didn’t take it with a grain of salt. 

 

When she got promoted, she was practically jumping out of her skirt to work with him. Yet, it was so much different than she imagined.

 

Laura didn’t predict staying late when he went out for a drink or taking the paperwork from the office when he was practically passed out in his chair, or even running the place when he simply wouldn’t show up. 

 

He took her under his wing, and she outgrew him. 

 

All the sleepless nights, paperwork, and headaches had paid off. This was the moment Tom and her,  she,  dreamed of. The people who miraculously managed to catch the infamous Red Bandit would-be heroes, who knows, maybe the president would shake her very hand one day over dinner. Maybe she’d get a medal and her own private practice, the very thought made her feel light as air. 

 

His public hanging would surely stir the pot too. 

 

“Let’s get out of here before his posse comes to his rescue.” 

 

“Shouldn’t we get them too?” 

 

“Don’t bother,” Laura interjected, “We’ve got the queen Bee, they won’t survive long.”

 

She could’ve sworn Red Bandit smirked, eyes glinting dangerously. 

 

“Second that, drinks on me in the morning!” 

 

They all cheered and clapped, the two men disarming and dragging Red Bandit to their strongest officer’s horse, in case he tried anything. 

 

Laura watched him get tossed on the back of the horse carelessly, secured by double knots and rope. 

 

Besides a grunt from impact, he didn’t say a word. Laura was suspicious, what was he hiding? 

 

Everyone loaded back on to their horses, starting the ride back to the jail. 

 

As the adrenaline began wearing off, Laura could feel the cold nipping at her ears and nose, she began feeling tired. Actually, she was exhausted. 

 

A weight fell from her shoulders, it’d be there for so long that she hadn’t grasped just how heavy it was. 

 

She could get sleep at night, relax, knowing that people are safe and Red Bandit is off the streets. 

 

She blinked her bleary eyes, keeping them focused on the body on the back of her coworker’s horse. 

 

She wasn’t gonna let the dog out of her sight. She wouldn’t rest until he was swinging in public in front of the whole town.

 

Even then, the money and lives lost couldn’t be replaced by taking his. Perhaps, justice served will help the families rest for once. They deserved that much at least. 

 

The group continued their journey back with triumphant silence. They collectively felt themselves soaring higher, a pride inside them for all the hard work they put in together: 

 

The moon and stars were a illuminated guide in the pitch black, each one breathing clearer and sighing heavier than before. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm not dead
> 
> So what do you guys think? It's gonna end soon :(

**Author's Note:**

> WOW I outlined this weeks ago and finally got around to writing it


End file.
